


Messy streaks of colour

by galaxylove



Category: TWICE (Band)
Genre: College AU, F/F, Maybe side Mihyo, Roomates MoChaeng bc i love them, Side Chaeyu eventually, Vague mentions of other idols probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-08 04:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12856461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galaxylove/pseuds/galaxylove
Summary: She might have regretted agreeing to let her eager (and totally not in love) room mate throw a party to impress her 'friend', had it not been for soft eyes and a teasing smile.





	1. Chapter 1

   In hindsight, this was an absolutely awful idea.

  She eyed the messy, turbulent crowd of rambunctious teens in front of her, gyrating off-time to ignition (which in her opinion was honestly criminal), leaning back against the wall and feeling every kick of the snare as the music thrummed through the entire building.

  She made a mental note to bake an entire batch of cookies for old Mrs Kim four doors down, it was the least that poor little lady deserved after putting up with this and not reporting them to their landlord.

  She was also going to make sure that Chaeyoung, who had been talking to the tall, pretty girl Momo had seen a few times in the other dance studios on the other side of the room for the better part of half an hour now, would come over with her and apologise herself to Mrs Kim. This party had been her idea after all.

  She’d looked at Momo with those big, child-like eyes, and her hands clasped in front of her pleading oh so desperately for her approval for this party. She had begged and whined about how her new ( _just_ a friend!) ‘friend’ had just moved over here from Taiwan for an exchange year and she wanted to host a party to make her feel welcomed and introduce her to new people and there wouldn’t be _that_ many people, honest!

  Momo looked up from the half-empty red cup in her hand to look at the throng of people milling about between her kitchen and the living room, sat up on the counters flirting with their chosen conquest for the night, or cheering on their friends as they downed another crack-pot concoction (she was too scared to ask what their red cups contained at this point). She saw a boy from Chaeyoung’s art class, BangBang or some other obnoxious nickname like that, throwing up in their recycling bin.

   _She had said yes to this_ , she admits with a drawn out weary sigh, watching the boy dry heave repeatedly. She tips back the rest of her cup down her throat (coca cola, before anyone gets any ideas) crushing the plastic in her fist and tossing it back somewhere behind the couch. She’d have to clean this all in the morning anyway, so what was one more tiny crushed red cup?

  She makes her way over to the boy, wincing at the sight and placing her hand on his back, giving him a pat or two in what she hoped was somewhat soothing. He barely looked up, head swaying haphazardly above the bin (and she had _just_ sorted their recycling out this week) but he did give her a weak grunt of recognition, so that was something at least.

  Chaeyoung better end up married to her ‘definitely _just_ a friend!’ crush for all the trouble she’d put Momo through for this.

  Momo sighs (her new favourite habit, it seemed),  and rifled through the information in her head. She _thinks_ she’s seen BoomBoom hanging out with Jackson from her mandatory Korean elective once or twice, and she remembers seeing Jackson hanging out near the bathroom with Youngjae about five minutes ago. Hopefully he was good enough friends with the ailing boy crying ( _oh god he was crying now_ ) into her soiled recycling bin to take care of him so she wouldn’t have to.

  She reluctantly wraps an arm around his waist, securing him against her side and ignoring the overwhelming scent of vodka skating along her neck as his head flopped against her shoulder. She cursed his parents for his tall genetics as she heaved his body down the hallway, practically heaving him onto her back and dragging his semi-lifeless body towards her hopeful saviour, also cursing them for giving him shitty alcohol tolerance.

  She spies a very handsy couple spill out of the bathroom, giggling and correcting their clothes whilst falling over the line of people glaring daggers waiting against the wall (and she makes a mental note to check that the locks on the bedrooms and Chaeyoung’s art room are still indeed locked) including - _yes_ , Jackson. She heaves what could be a sigh of relief or overexertion at carrying this dimwit, and straight up throws him at Jackson as soon as she gets close enough. He barely even looks phased at their arrival, just slinging an arm around the boy who seemed almost miniscule in comparison to his muscular frame, and shot Momo a salute. _Thank God_ _for that._

  “Take care of BinBin.” Momo shouted over the music, and she thinks Jackson shouted something back at her but she’d already began meandering around the sweaty bodies in every nook of her home. She sees some people she knows, and other people that must be Chaeyoung’s friends or fanciful hopefuls that saw an open party and made their way in - at this point she doesn’t really care - and she shoots obligatory greetings and head nods in their direction as she makes her way to her room.

  There’s a guy leaning on her door, but Momo points out to him that there’s a bottle of premium vodka hidden under the sink if he wants it (Chaeyoung’s just going to have to suck it up) and he leaves and Momo can finally breathe easy for the first time of the night. She jiggles the handle, and sure enough the door is locked and there’s at least one reassurance that everything’s not going so badly. She resists the urge to let her head fall against the door and makes her way to Chaeyoung’s room, relief spreading through her once again at finding her lock still intact.

  Well, she _did_ have to prise Nayeon away from the door with a bent bobby pin clasped in her one hand and Jeongyeon’s in her other. She had the good grace to look a _little_ sheepish, which is an improvement because usually Nayeon is shameless. At least they hadn’t tried to break into her room. She thinks.

  The two stumble off, hopefully somewhere _not_ her apartment to continue their hopeful night, and honestly at least someone was getting something out of this party.

  A stray ping pong ball comes whizzing down the hall, narrowly missing heads as it hits the generic family portrait Momo had cut and pasted hers and Chaeyoung’s heads onto when they moved it. It still made her laugh every time she saw it, and frankly was a great opener every time she brought home someone new, which was, like, never.  She shoots a glare at the boys who had turned their dining table into their beer pong arena, launching the ball back at them and revelling in the satisfaction when it hit one of them in the head. She straightened the portrait on the wall, and looking at Chaeyoung’s grinning face made her remember.

  She’d forgotten to check the lock on Chae’s art room.

  They were fortunate really, Momo knew this. Chaeyoung’s parents were kind (and rich) enough to fund a bigger apartment for their daughter’s needs, which included a separate room for her artistic capabilities. It didn’t stop Momo from finding brushes scattered everywhere, or even a stray streak of paint on the couch every now and then, but it certainly limited  the chances. The room was her sanctuary, her private abode that only a few select people had ever been granted access to, and also contained all of Chaeyoung’s expensive supplies.

  Ah shit.

  Momo barrelled through the crowd, voice rising above the music as she shouted at the crowd to move the fuck aside and there _must_ have been something authoritative in her voice because the condensed bodies packed tightly in the hallway parted like the red sea.

  Jihyo would be proud, honestly.

  Chaeyoung’s art room was the furthest room in the apartment from the kitchen, and so by the time she got there and saw the hastily strewn up “DO NOT ENTER” signs still intact with not a single hormonal body in sight, she could almost feel relief re-enter her body.

  Until she noticed the door was slightly open.

  Ah _fuck._

The music down the hallway had changed to something much faster now, seemingly matching the racing pace Momo’s heart had set in her chest. She ducked under the signs and the barrier, pushing open the door to see everything pretty much the same as she could remember it. Chaeyoung liked to keep everything out, referring to it as a designated mess, so she honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell if something was where it shouldn’t.  Half finished sketches were strewn up all over the room, sketches of landscapes and inanimate objects and friends (lots of Momo, that made her happy) littered all over the room.

  “These are really good.”

  Momo whirled around at the soft voice, heart set at a frightening rate and a hand on her chest for dramatic measure. She squinted at the figure in the doorway, light from the hall spilling in behind her and basking her in an almost angelic glow.

  Alright, maybe it hadn’t just been coca-cola in her cup, but she swore the girl looked like something straight out of one of Chaeyoung’s paintings.

  The figure stepped in and flicked on the light, and Momo thought that maybe she _was_ talking to an angel. She realised she hadn’t actually responded, and her mother didn’t raise her without manners.

  “Ah, yeah. Chaeyoung’s...really good.”

  The girl walked around the room, each footstep careful and deliberate as she surveyed each piece of work on display. She stopped on a piece of Momo, looking at it for a while before looking directly at the subject.

  “These aren’t yours?” Her voice was high and whimsical, and Momo conveniently forgets that she should have technically kicked the girl out by now. She snorts instead.

  (Real attractive, Hirai.)

  “Oh no, I could never do something like,” she stopped, waving her hand far more enthusiastically than she had to, “this. Y’know?”

  The girl frowned. Momo thought she looked ever cuter, somehow.

  “Well that sucks.” She pursed her lips and crossed her arms, sighing softly as she looked again at the sketch of Momo laughing into a bowl of cereal. Momo wished Chaeyoung wasn’t as talented as she was because that one was a little embarrassing. The girl gasped, like a light bulb had gone off in her head, and Momo found herself ready to agree with whatever she had to say before she even opened her mouth.

  “We should draw each other.”

  Wait, _what?_

The girl was beaming at her, hands clasped together in a way that Momo really should have been used to by now. Maybe she was a bit of a pushover.

  “Uhhhh, I’m not sure if you got the whole ‘I’m-bad-at-art’ vibe but uh, I’m definitely super bad at anything artistic.”

  She rolled her eyes and stepped forward, making Momo realise this girl was a lot closer than she thought.

  “And? Art isn’t about being _good_ , it’s about just, being, you know?”

  She could have told Momo that the sky was blue or that dogs bark, and Momo would have found herself thinking every word out of her pretty mouth was profound lyricism and gospel. Momo nodded and warm eyes practically glowed at her approval, grabbing Chaeyoung’s cup of pencils from the side and two sheets of paper. She thrusts one set towards Momo, before throwing herself down on the floor, closing an eye and pointing her thumb towards Momo.

  “What are you doing?” Momo found herself asking, amusement evident as well as confusion.

  “Shhh, I’m finding the best angle, for artistic purposes, y’know.”

  The girl continued her dramatics, zooming in and out with her hand and playfully angling her hands until she nodded once, content with her chosen ‘angle’. She puts pencil to paper, and Momo finds herself mesmerised.

  She can still hear the thumping music distorted from down the hallway, though it seemed quieter now as if everyone was beginning to wind down, and she was here at this god forsaken party in Chaeyoung’s art room with the prettiest girl she’d ever had the pleasure of seeing.

  God was good, she decided.

  She figured the girl was expecting something from her too, and so she set to work to attempt to do some sort of justice to the piece of art in front of her. If she squinted, and angled it _just_ right in the light and turned it upside down, it could almost look like the beginning of a shaky Picasso.

   _If_ Picasso had both hands tied behind his back and had to use his mouth to sketch it. Whilst blindfolded. And possibly if he was a baby. She put a smiley face next to the haphazard figure on her paper, hoping the girl would be less offended by the monstrosity that was supposed to be herself.

  The other girl still hadn’t finished, and she’d angled the paper so Momo couldn’t see her work in progress, so she ( _totally_ not in a creepy way, she reasoned) took the time to really take in the girl in front of her.

  She was pretty, that much was obvious. Momo wasn’t even sure pretty was enough to describe her, and she definitely wasn’t much of a poet or a wordsmith, so she settled on the term even though she _knew_ the girl in front of her could have inspired entire sonnets or plays. The long, black hair that Momo was certain had been down when she came in the room had been swept up into a messy bun, held in place by one of Chaeyoung’s pencils (when did that even happen?) with a few strands brushing against her face. Her eyes were focused down, squinting in focus as she painstakingly traced every line.

  Damn, she really seemed to be taking her time on this. Momo looked down at the wonky smiley face staring back at her and hoped the girl’s standards weren’t sky high.

  The girl thrust her paper out suddenly, taking Momo back from the unexpected action. She held the paper up, looking back and forth between whatever she had drawn and Momo, comparing the two pieces. She nodded once, seemingly satisfied, and gave a content hum of approval. She stood up abruptly, and Momo found herself standing up along with her. She folded her paper and handed it to Momo, who stared at it blankly.

  “Here.” She smiled gently. “I think you’ll really like it.”

  Momo hastily folded her own drawing and handed it over.

  “Uh yeah, I think you’ll like yours too.”

(Quite easily one of the top ten biggest lies she had ever told.)

  She got another soft smile in response and then the girl was walking back towards the door, reaching up to turn out the light as she disappeared, leaving Momo standing there gaping like a moron basked in the light from the hallway. Chaeyoung would have found the whole scene very picturesque and artistic, she thinks absently, and she remembers the folded paper tucked loosely between her fingertips.

  She unfolds the paper and holds it up to the light from the doorway, noting the multiple exaggerated winky faces and kissy faces drawn around the page. There was a small, very cute chibi drawing of Momo in the top corner, but that wasn’t what captured her attention the most.

  She blinked. She blinked again.

  In the very centre of the page, was a very decorated string of digits with small hearts and smirky faces drawn around them and a short message.

   _Call me ;)_


	2. pretty stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Momo squirms, not entirely sure how to admit to this stranger her number was actually saved under “pretty stranger (´,,•ω•,,)♡”. She’d sooner admit that the little note with her number written upon it was pinned on the corkboard in Momo’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday miss minatozaki!!!

   She doesn’t actually know how she got dragged into another party this soon, but she’s pressed against the wall of Tzuyu’s rather cramped dormitory with _way_ too many bodies brushing past her and wishing she was anywhere but here to be perfectly honest. She _really_ needed to learn how to put her foot down when Chae pinned her with those puppy dog eyes. If she wasn’t such a pushover she could be at home finishing the last three episodes of stranger things and devouring whatever take-out would deliver to her the fastest.

  But no, she was here, in the sweaty confines of a college assigned dormitory that she swore she would never set foot in again after first year, watching some football player taking body shots like a pro while some unfamiliar club track reverberated off the walls. She tipped back the rest of whatever bitter, tangy alcohol was in her cup and tossed it in the nearest trash can before letting herself survey the room.

  It was a communal dorm, which was at least marginally better than the cramped room she’d been given, which meant there was one large communal area with a series of bedrooms attached around the edges. She actually slightly envied these kids for managing to obtain a dorm like this, at least they had the privacy of having their own bedroom. She spared a quick thought for tragic, first year Momo who spent the entire year tip-toeing around her irate room mate and looked to the doorway (totally not in the plan of an escape, or anything) to see even more people streaming in from the neighbouring dorms. The party had already bled out into the hallway and even into the dorm next door, who thankfully appeared to be a friend of Tzuyu’s so they didn’t mind much, but the heart of the party was well and truly centered around the throbbing sound system blasting from the kitchen table. Momo _had_ wondered briefly if the RA would come and break up this totally-not-sanctioned gathering anytime soon, but then she saw the beautiful older girl replacing the football player from earlier in the body shot challenge and her dreams of being able to go home were quashed with each and every shot sliding down her neck.

  It wasn’t even like it was just another random party either. No, it was one of Tzuyu’s roommates twenty first fucking birthday, so the celebrations were peaking to a level that Momo didn’t think entirely possible. The overall, feel good buzz of the other students was starting to get to Momo however, so she pushed herself away from the wall and set off to push through the crowd to find another drink. She might as well take advantage of the free alcohol and celebrate for this girl that she’d never met, right?

* * *

 

  Two hours and more shots (and propositions) than she’d care to admit, Momo found herself fumbling along the wall for a door and a door handle that would hopefully lead her to the bathroom. She stumbled over a stray cup, scowling at the offending object before returning her full attention to her plight for relief. The party had slowly began to wind down not long ago, and in the time she’d been drinking Momo had successfully been named body shot queen (take _that_ Nayeon) and had successfully mocked Chaeng’s determined efforts to woo Tzuyu on at least five separate occasions tonight alone. She was quite proud, if she did say so herself. She’d probably have to keep an eye on her valuables for the next few weeks because the look on Chae’s face promised some sort of retribution, but for now it was worth it.

  She thinks that Tzuyu said the bathroom was the fourth door on the left. Or maybe she said the third. Either way she was gonna try the handle of each and every door until she succeeded. The first two doors didn’t budge, but the third door popped open with a surprising ease and Momo slid in victoriously, pressing against the door without looking inside first. She turned around expecting to see the object of her desires, a toilet hopefully, but instead saw a mildly confused face of a girl staring at her in the reflection of her mirror.

  Okay, this definitely wasn’t the bathroom.

  She was about to apologise, because she absolutely should not have just drunkenly stumbled into a stranger’s bedroom during a party, but the face in the mirror lit up in recognition and the girl turned around, face bright and welcoming.

  “Hi.”

  “Hi?” Momo replied, reaching behind her to find the doorknob. The girl leaned forward on the back of her chair, lips pursing into a pout.

  “You never called me, you know.”

  Blinding recognition shot through Momo’s alcohol hazed mind along with moderate disbelief that she didn’t immediately recognise the beautiful face in front of her. She smiled sheepishly. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, waving it meekly.

  “I have it saved. Your number.” She adds, taking note of the coy expression the girl levelled at her.

  “And what do you have it saved under?” She asks teasingly, pushing herself up to stand in front of her chair, “you don’t know my name, after all.”

  Momo squirms, not entirely sure how to admit to this stranger her number was actually saved under **“pretty stranger (´,,•ω•,,)♡”**. She’d sooner admit that the little note with her number written upon it was pinned on the corkboard in Momo’s room. She coughs surreptitiously into a fist.

  “Artsy stranger.” She mumbled into her fist, eyes landing everywhere that wasn’t the imposing girl in front of her. She raised an eyebrow in amusement.

  “Right.” She said unconvincingly, face set in an easy smile and accompanied by teasing eyes. Said eyes raked up and down Momo’s figure like she was evaluating something, and Momo swallowed down the excitement bubbling in her throat.

  “Say,” the soft voice from across the room mused, “how attached are you to your clothes?”

  Well, at least she wasn’t the type of girl to beat around the bush. Momo glanced down, surveying the old white t-shirt she’d thrown on hastily before Chaeyoung dragged her out of their apartment and the even older blue jeans she usually lounged around the place in.

  “N-not particularly,” she tried to say uncaringly, cursing inwardly at the tell-tale nervousness her stutter betrayed, “why do you ask?

  The other girls eyes positively glowed as she skipped forwards, leaning forwards to grab both of Momo’s hands in her own. The hold Momo had on the doorknob (and her escape) the whole time faltered as she allowed herself to be dragged further into this girls room.

  “Paint with me.” She demanded, and the bubble of excitement in Momo’s throat popped with a surge of laughter at the earnest, child-like determination on the face in front of her.

  “Okay.” She found herself saying, ignoring the the airy, cloud-like fluff that filled her chest at the answering squeal of excitement. The girl dropped her hands to turn around rummage through her drawers, making Momo lament the loss of warmth and contact, even if it was only brief. She blamed it on the alcohol.

  She heard a shout of triumph and looked up to see a set of finger paints clenched victoriously in a firm grip before she had a newspaper flung brazenly at her, fumbling and juggling the unexpected object in surprise. The girl barely paused before instructing her to set out the paper on her floor, and Momo did so dutifully and carefully to ensure the carpet was entirely safe. She finished and found herself dragged downwards, tucking her legs underneath her to sit comfortable in front of this very beautiful girl excitedly opening each tub of paint. It wasn’t until a slender finger swiped up a thick glob of blue paint that Momo realised they didn’t actually have any paper to paint on.

  “Hey, do you have any paper?” She asked good naturedly, and her answer was a startling swipe of blue along her jaw. She gaped in surprise at the offender opposite, who leaned back clutching at her stomach as she laughed, accidentally staining her shirt with the paint on her fingers. Momo grinned and leaned forward, finger dipping into the pot of red before reaching up to drag her finger down the length of the girl’s nose. She stopped laughing to frown, whining childishly at the rebukal. The clouds in Momo’s chest expanded and she doubted if the dopey grin on her face would ever actually disappear.

  The body opposite shuffled closer, and Momo’s breath hitched at the proximity as pretty hands grasped at her white shirt, leaving streaks of blue and pink along the fabric. She looked down and saw the girl staring in utmost concentration, tracing bright pink lines down the front of her t-shirt with her finger tip. A single finger reached up to tilt her chin up and away, leaving a single dot of pink under her face accidentally.

  “You’re not allowed to look yet.” She heard the girl mumble, still feeling every stroke of her finger against her body through the t-shirt.

  It seemed like forever, but the strokes finally stopped and the girl sat back satisfied at her handiwork, nodding in approval. She stretched out her own t-shirt, gesturing at it invitingly.

  “Your turn.” she grinned, and Momo leaned forwards again with what she hoped was an unnoticeable gulp, fingers dipping into various pots of paint as she did so. She placed a very yellow and wonky sun just about where her collar bone would be, and swiped small streaks of green at the hem of her shirt in a simple imitation of grass. She looked at her stomach, and the childlike, blue strokes that formed Momo’s own name looking shamelessly back at her. She still had some paint on her fingers, so she shot the girl a ludicrous grin and grasped at her face, running each of her paint covered fingers down pink-tinged cheeks. Messy streaks of colour smeared against her skin and the girl’s mouth dropped open in surprise, shocked laughter spilling over her lips. Momo felt unfamiliar fingers touch her face with stripes of paint and she laughed back, wrestling with the girl as they both struggled to cover the other with paint and avoid the other’s efforts.

  Momo’s phone rang suddenly, the wiggles theme song blaring out into the room and sending the girl into another bout of laughter. That was Chaeyoung’s ringtone, so she wiped her fingers on the other girls shirt (earning another dirty glare) and reached into her pocket, hoping the paint wouldn’t stain her phone too badly.

  “Where are you?” Chae’s voice came through the receiver, and Momo didn’t notice the trace of recognition that flitted across her painting partner’s face at the voice.

  “I’m still at the party.” Momo admitted. She’d honestly forgotten she was even at this cursed party. Perhaps it had something to do with the company.

  “Really?” Chaeyoung exclaimed, and Momo barely stifled the eye roll at the sheer surprise in her voice. “That’s unexpected.” She teased.

  “Anyway, if you’re still there I need your help.”

  “What’s wrong?” Momo sat forward, pushing herself up from her lax position.

  “Dahyun _may_ or may not have taken one too many jagerbombs and _may_ or may not be passed out in the hallway, and I _may_ or may not be too weak to carry her myself.” Her tiny room mate admitted, and Momo snorted in reply.

  “Where’s Tzuyu?” Momo asked, not noticing the other presence in the room slipping out through the door.

  “Busy wrestling with an overly rambunctious football player in the kitchen.” Chaeyoung hummed absently. Momo realised she she really likes Tzuyu, now that she thinks about it. “So yeah, get your ass out here and help me please, love you!” And she hung up, dial tone ringing in Momo’s ear.

  Momo sighed and stood up, only just noticing the disappearance of the other girl. She shook her head bemusedly. Sudden entrances and exits seemed to be a talent of hers, it seemed. She caught a sight of her reflection in the mirror, bursting out into laughter at the sheer amount of paint covering her face and clothes. She spied more kissy faces on her shirt, another trademark talent of this girls by the look of it. She stretched out the fabric to read the bright pink strokes by her ribs, the reflection of the mirror making this way more difficult than it should have been. She realises, with a start, that the bright pink paint came together to form a message.

  “ _Sana. Save me in your phone as Sana_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to oomf, i hope this sort of makes up for the angst xox  
> 

**Author's Note:**

> I was...debating whether to leave this as a oneshot...but maybe I'll make it a twoshot...or three shot... kinda wanna explore this a little bit :^)  
> Also kind of wanted to try a fic where Momo and Sana didn't already know each other and weren't like together from the very beginning of time so  
> @tiffatologist on twt ;)  
> p.s. i literally just threw this up all at once so like, sorry for inconsistencies lol


End file.
